Dying Free
by Traumatised Bookworm
Summary: Maximum Ride is not your average teenager. She has an unusual habit. Dying.
1. Chapter 1

_Look at my name. Is it James Patterson?_

_That means I don't own Maximum Ride.  
_

_Only this storyline.  
_

* * *

My name is Maximum Ride, and I am addicted to dying.

Wow. That sounded like I should be in a dying-anonymous group or something.

Dying. Have you ever felt it? It is the most wonderful, terrifying, peaceful, addictive feeling of all time. You'd think it's painful, and, at first, it is, but soon it just turns into a gentle hum, buzzing around your body like the world's worst case of pins and needles.

I suppose you haven't felt it, otherwise you couldn't be reading this. But I have. Dozens- no, scores- of time, I have been shot, hung, suffocated and drowned. And I'll tell you: it never gets boring.

_Okay pretend there's a line break here because it's not letting me put one in_

As I am tying the laces of my sneakers, my mother calls up the stairs. "Max! Are you ready yet? You're going to be late!"

Slowly standing up, I glance around my room, one last time. Have I forgotten anything? I run a mental inventory of the contents of my backpack. Pens? Check. Maths homework? Complete. Science folder? Present and ready for duty. Laptop? Charged and available. English textbook?

My head snaps up and I look around for the missing book. Seeing a tell-tale orange corner under a stack of files on my desk, I walk over and gently pull it out, holding the top of the pile in case they fall.

Putting the elusive paperback into my black and purple polka dotted bag, I look in the mirror, in case there is a spot of toothpaste near my mouth, or a piece of this morning's leftover pasta between around my teeth. A tall, lanky girl of sixteen looks back at me. Her brown, blond streaked hair falls in layers her face, stopping a few inches above her black clad shoulders. Pale legs which refuse to tan are partially covered with a pair of dark denim shorts. The only colours in her outfit are her green sneakers and some beaded bracelets.

I tug at the chains around my wrist. They had been given to me by my best friend, as a goodbye present, in the last place I had lived.  
A pang of homesickness burns through my chest, bringing with a longing for things I had left behind.

"No," I tell myself sternly. "Don't look back. Don't remember mistakes. Just keep moving forward."

Taking a deep breath, I look at my reflection, assure that I am presentable, and walk out of my bedroom, closing the door behind me.

Glancing at the time on my phone, I run down the stairs, two at a time. At the bottom, I am momentarily disorientated, as I try to turn left, only to encounter a wall. I am still used to the layout of my old house, even though I hadn't lived in it for at least eight months.

Sighing, I spin around, continue towards the front door, and yell to my mother, "Mom, I'm going now! See you tonight!"

"Have a nice day at school, honey," she calls from the kitchen.

Passing the twin's bedroom, I stick my head in and say, "Hey, Angel, Gazzy. I'm going to school now. Be good today, alright?"

The tired eyes of two ten year olds look back at me. "Bye-bye Maxie," says Angel quietly, her golden blonde ringlets a messy halo around her face. "Have a nice day."

"Go away, I'm trying to sleep," drawls the Gasman, pulling his blankets over his head.

A perfect display of their personalities.

Checking my phone again, I realise that if I don't hurry, I'm going to miss my bus. I run from my house and sprint down the street, to the main road of Middle-Of-Nowhere, Arizona. Why my mom chose to move here, of all places, is beyond me.

I skid to a halt next to the old bus my school had appropriated for their purposes. The driver, about to close the door, rolls his eyes and says, "Decided to grace us with your presence, have you, Miss Ride?"

"I have to give the peasants _something_ to look forward to, don't I?" I reply, smirking, before walking the length of the bus. I stand, arms folded, looking at a freshman who had decided to sit in the last available back seat.  
It may have been a new school, but the rules were the same as those of the next state's: Seniors always get the seat, other people be damned.

Glaring at me, he picks up his bag and stands, motioning dramatically for me to sit. I smile graciously, continuing the charade, before plonking down onto the cracked leather.

I turn to look at who I ending up sitting next to and immediately regret my decision in applying my Senioric power.  
I look up, just in case the freshman wanted his seat back, but he had already walked down the bus and was sitting at the front, just behind the driver.

Closing my eyes and leaning my head against the headrest, I prayed the torture wouldn't begin.

I obviously have bad karma, because the Big Guy (or Girl) didn't grant my wish.

"Hey, Max. What _are_ you wearing?" said Lissa. "Did you have fun at your emo convention?"

I try to block out the nasal toned, high pitched squeak, to no avail. "It was alright. Too bad you weren't there. You know how much we emos like witches." I turn my head to look at her. "But you were too busy at the strip club, right? You know, for some reason, I thought you weren't allowed to wear your work uniform to school."

I hadn't even looked at her outfit, but I knew what she would be wearing. Some garishly coloured miniskirt, a horrendously revealing corset-like sleeveless and strappy heels. I looked her up and down. Yep. I was right. She looked like she was a dedicated disciple of Being A Slut 101. Complete with cacked on makeup.

She open and closed her mouth, trying, to no avail, to think of a witty retort.

"Save it," I say. "This is a new shirt and I really don't want to get your blood on it."  
That shut her up.

I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I know, Lissa is poking my arm and saying, "Move, _freak_. We're here."

Consciously taking my time, just to annoy her, I slowly pick up my bag and sling it over my shoulder. I stand and stretch, deliberately cuffing the back of her head with my fist.

Before she can react past an indignant 'hey!' I shove past the other students and run off the bus.

Just in time to see the eighteen wheeler speeding towards us.


	2. Chapter 2

My body stayed frozen for a millisecond, shocked, beyond horror, at what it knew was going to happen. I stared at the cockpit of the truck, where I could see the driver grappling with the steering wheel, to no avail. The eighteen wheeled bringer of death barrelled down the hill towards us as if it was pulled by a magnet.

Then I saw a pair of students standing in front of me, right where I could tell the monstrous vehicle was going to hit.  
"Move!" I screamed, shoving them both towards the grassy lawn of our school, which we had just stopped in front of.

I barely saw a glimpse of their faces- two boy's from my year, Sam and Dylan- before they stumbled, caught themselves, then sprinted away. Their sudden movement seemed to shock the rest of the students, standing frozen around me, into running as well.  
The dozen or so teens, who had been, moments before, standing around and laughing, were now running for their lives.  
I leaned into the doorway of the bus, trying to ignore the screams, as more and more students, in the bus and on the school grounds, realised what was about to happen.  
"Crash position!" I yelled. Immediately, the majority of the bus dropped into a crouch, heads between their knees. The various emergency procedures of any situation had been drilled into the students of this school hundreds, if not thousands, of times, that they obeyed the simple commands without question.

I glanced towards the truck- just in time to see it crash into the bus, the hood of which crumpled around me.

* * *

Burning. I was burning. I was broken. I was slipping away, going black, dying…

_No_, I told myself sternly. _You've been through this before. You know what to do._

_But it hurts, _the in-pain part(s) of me whined.

_And you can't let them find you_, I rationalized.

Feeling like they were being assaulted with a hot poker, my eyes peeled open to see a jagged shaft of metal, inches from my face. Not daring to move, I glanced around, trying to find a safe way out of the crumpled engine of the bus. I could see no escape: everything was either burning, crushed, or blocked by shards.

Belatedly, my mind registered just how much pain I was in.  
Acid, it felt like. Acid pain. Like fire, but deeper. And knifes. Knifes are pain. A different pain from bullets. They're sharper. This was a sharp pain. Sharp. My tongue is sharp, people say. They say I can cut them down in a word. Why would I want to cut people? Cuts hurt. Cutting hurts. This was not cutting. It was stabbing. With a knife covered in acid.

Arms. Legs. Head. Ohmygod, my head. I started hyperventilating. _Make it stop! _I wanted to scream. _Make it go away!_

I made myself calm down. _Don't breathe deeply. It will make your heart pump faster. You'll lose more blood. _  
So, my techniques aren't exactly comforting. At least they work.

Looking around, I concluded that the only way I could get out of here, was to sacrifice the skin of my hand, and move the white hot spear of metal from my face.

As I tried to lift my arm, a burning spike of pain shot from my shoulder to my head. I tasted blood, then realised that I had bitten my lip in an attempt to not scream. _Shit, _I thought. _Broken. _

Raising my other, left, hand, I touched the scorching metal and pushed it out of my way. It could literally _feel_ the skin on my hand melting away and the blisters forming.

When I finally succeeded in opening a gap wide enough for me to wriggle through, I whipped my hand away and look out. I was staring at asphalt, which meant no one would see me crawling out of the wreckage. Finally, some luck.

I squirm around until I'm half in the bus, half on the tar below. I can feel cuts and burns on my legs bleeding, whatever small clotting that may have formed broken by my movement.  
My vision begins to blur. I am _not_ going to pass out. I shake my head, but that only makes the fuzziness grow. I realise that my left eye is filling with blood from a cut on my forehead. I unsuccessfully try to blink it out, then continue on.

I hadn't thought out how I was going to do this. I land, heavily, on my broken arm the second my feet leave the bus. I can't stop my scream.  
In the silence left behind, I hear faint cries and yelps beginning above me. At least some people survived.

Finally, I, an agony consumed, internally screaming ball of fire, crawl out of the smoking wreckages of the two vehicles. Glancing back at the crumpled hoods of the bus and truck, I feel a pang that was not related to an injury. I don't like the chances of either of the drivers surviving.

I struggle to my feet, and stumble away from the screams. Soon, I collapse, exhausted and in pain, behind the shed of a deserted house a street away from my school. Not the most fool proof of hiding places, but the best I can manage.

I look over my body, and catalogue my injuries. A broken elbow, as I unfortunately discovered earlier, the cut on my forehead- my probing fingers prove it is two inches wide and still seeping blood-, a sprained ankle, cuts and minor burns from the fire and shrapnel over my arms and legs, and, of course, the mutilated skin of my hands.

I concentrate: the pain changes to a dull throb, a buzzing feeling starting in my hands. As I watch, the wounds on my limbs stop bleeding and start to swell. The blood dripping from my head slows, and then stops. Then, it starts. Hundreds of thousands of needles, poking and prodding me, everywhere I was hurt. The cuts clot, then skin grows over, before my eyes. The burns redden, form blisters, and then disappear, a healing process of weeks completed in seconds. A furious itching begins in my head, and I know that the deep cut is knitting back together.  
My hands are the worst. The burn had gone right through the skin, charring the muscle and even touching the bone. The heat grows, my arms shake, and my skin is, within minutes, good as new.

My arm grows numb. Skin and muscles, soft tissue, heal quickly, but bone takes longer. I will be stiff for hours, as the various cartilages form and reduce healing time to hours, instead of weeks.

But none of the pain is gone. It may be phantom- my body still believes it is dying, even though it's not- but it still hurts. That was the one thing the scientists couldn't change. The brain is amazingly stubborn, when it wants to be.  
I ignore the pain. I shut it out. I concentrate on the endorphins. As you heal, your body produces endorphins, to make you feel better. The worse the injury, the more is made. They're basically a natural happy drug. And when you heal fast? The same amount is produced, only really, really quickly.

It feels good.

I know the pain will come back, and soon, so I stand and look around, to see if I left any indication of my being there. It looks completely normal. Apart from the smears of blood, which can't really be helped.

I quickly make my way back to my school. I know I shouldn't go back, but I have to see who survived.  
I blend quickly into the crows of silent on-lookers, watching as paramedics cut metal, break glass, and pull out bodies. Some struggle, some scream, and some just lie there. Those the worst to look at.

As they pull out one of the still bodies, I catch a flash of red hair. The breath catches in my throat.

_Lissa. _

Still coasting on my happy wave, I can't feel true horror or sadness. But, believe me, I came pretty close.

Walking quickly away, I pull out my phone and dial a familiar number.

"Mom?" I say. I want to whisper, but I have to speak loudly for her to hear me over the wail of the ambulance. "It happened again."

"Oh, honey," my mother sighed. "Is anyone else hurt?"

She knows that it would pointless to ask about my own health, as I am always fine, but still. It would be nice for her to care. "Yes, mother," I whisper-shout. "Everyone is fine. I'll be home soon."

I cut the call before she can answer, and sigh. Rubbing my suddenly burning eyes, I begin my lonely walk home, thinking,

_I hope we move somewhere near the ocean this time._

* * *

_(ooc)  
_

_Thanks for the reviews, follows, and favs!  
_

_Gremlin-Rayne: Oh dear. I dread the gremlins. But yay for cookies!  
_

_FreeToRun and SapphireAster: Thanks, and you'll see :) It was glanced upon in this chapter, but I'll elaborate further on.  
_


	3. Chapter 3

I glumly throw my clothes into an already stuffed bag. The movements are familiar. This is the seventh time we've moved after I was kidnapped by the

_No, _I tell myself. _Don't think about that._

After piling the contents of my bookshelf into a box, and zipping my suitcase, I glance around my unusually tidy bedroom. Despite not having lived there for long, I had grown used to the orange and purple splattered walls, the wooden antiques, the window that refused to stop drafts.  
I sigh and shoulder my backpack. After picking up the box of books, and grabbing the handle of my suitcase, I exit my room and close the door one last time.

Putting my luggage is the trunk of my mother's four by four, I turn to survey the house I had never really thought of as home. A movement at the front window caught my eye- a flash of golden curls, before a curtain was pulled closed. A pang of guilt flashed through my chest, prompting me to go back inside the house. Unhappily, I complied.

I stand in the doorway, looking at the unusually bare wall, at the paler patches of paint where pictures had once hung. I walk softly to the twin's bedroom and knock on the door.

"Go away!" a muffled voice cries. "We're not here!"

Biting my lip, I push open the door and enter. A sudden movement makes me jump, but then I realise that was just Angel and Gazzy diving underneath their stripped beds. The room, usually filled with toys and books, is now bare. The pink and green walls are bare, clear of any drawings or curtains.

I kneel in between their twin beds. "Come on, guys," I said softly. "We have to go now."

Angel crawls out and looks up at me. "But we don't want to. I want to stay here."

"Yeah," Gazzy says gloomily. "We had just started getting used to here."

Chewing the inside of my cheek, I look down. This wasn't fair to them. In their seven years, they had moved more than half a dozen times, because of me. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, then looked up at them.

"Guys, I'm really sorry about this. I really am. But we do have to move, otherwise…"

I stop myself, not wanting to scare the kids with the truth. But Angel completes my sentence.

"Otherwise, the School will find you."

Gazzy continues. "Because you were a naughty girl and ran away."

I try to keep my expression bland, but, inside, I am freaking out.

"How did you guys know that?" I ask carefully. "Where did you hear it?"

Gazzy and Angel glance at each other, and then look back at me.

"A man told us," Gazzy whispers.

"After school today. He said he was looking for you."

My heart is racing. They had never done this before. They had never tried to get my location out of anyone. They just followed me.  
And every time I saw them, or did something that could attract their attention, we had to run.

"And what did you tell him?" I try to calm my breathing. If the scientists knew where I was, they'd have gotten here by now.

Or would they have? Was that the sound of a car pulling up outside? A door opening? Footsteps slowly walking towards this room?

Angel interrupts my frantic thoughts. "We told him, 'stranger danger'. And then a teacher came and told him off.''

I nod slowly, not all of my paranoia gone. And then jump up and around, fists up, when someone knocks on the open door.

The figure holds up their hands, a shocked expression on their face.

"Mr Malthouse," I sigh. Our landlord stands uncomfortably, glasses slightly askew.

"Maxine," he says, looking slightly nervous. Seeing as I would never speak to him again, I decide to let it slide. "Your mother just called me, telling me that you're moving out _today_. Why the sudden rush?"

"Oh, you know," I lie quickly. "Family crisis. We'd probably move back in a couple of months when it's over." Yeah, right.

Malthouse says nothing, only raises an eyebrow, then continues towards the kitchen, probably making sure we are leaving his house in an acceptable condition.

I turn back around, crouch, and grab both of the twin's hands. "Let's go, guys," I murmur. "We have to leave."

Something in my expression tells them that I wouldn't argue with them this time. Glumly, they nod. Each picks up a toy, the only two left in the room- a stuffed bear, called Celeste, and a small spiderman. Neither travels anywhere without their twin, and their toy.

Silently, they follow me outside, leaving the unusually quite house behind.

I pull open the back door, watch the twins settle onto their seats, and make sure they are buckled in. I open the trunk one last time, to make sure everything is as it should be, and then slide into the front passenger seat.

My mother, sitting at the wheel, looks over at me and says quietly, "Is everything alright?"

I shake my head sharply, but resolve to say nothing until I know the twins aren't listening.

My mother seems to understand my silence, and drives in silence until the sky is dark and snores of two small children emanate from the back seat.

Glancing backwards to make sure that Gazzy and Angel are asleep, I see them curled around each other, toys lying abandoned on the seats.

My mother looks at me and says, quite simply, "Well?"

"They were followed," I say, motioning backwards. "Someone asked them where I was. Told them I 'way a naughty girl who ran away."

My mother grips the steering wheel so tight the blood brains away from her fingers, leaving them bone pale. If there is one thing Valencia Martinez cares about, it is the safety of her children. Even me, to an extent. She'll keep me safe, keep me from the clutches of the scientists, but she doesn't worry herself over small things like my health or wellbeing.

I can't blame her, though. I've put her through so much, just by being in her life. It would have been easy for her, to pretend to not recognise me when I turned up on her doorstep, half a decade older, and wise beyond my years.  
Because don't they say pain gives you wisdom?

But that is not what Valencia is like. She will never turn away anyone in need. Lucky I haven't inherited the trait.

My mother hits the horn with a fist, scaring a pair or birds away from the edge of the deserted highway. Her face is turning dangerously red, but her potential rant is interrupted by moans from behind us.

"What's happened, mummy?"

"Are we there yet?"

Putting on my sweetest smile, I turn around and say, "Don't worry, guys. Go back to sleep. Mommy was just scaring some birds from the road."

Still half asleep, the twins nod and lie back down, appearing to be unconscious within seconds.

Mother, glancing in the rear view mirror, determines that they are asleep. Returning her attention to the road, she whisper-yells, "Why can't they leave us alone? Just forget about you and let us live out our lives?"

I feel a pang of guilt. If it weren't for me, my family's lives would be normal. Valencia would have a steady job. The twins would stay in a place long enough to build lasting friendships. They wouldn't be hunted.

And I would be a lab rat.

Or dead.

I am too tired to console my mother, with words that I do not believe myself. My happy wave has long since dissipated.

I lean back against my headrest, close my eyes, and fall asleep to the _shrumm_ _shrumm_ of the engine.

I wake when a bright light creeps under my eyelids and zaps my brain. My eyes snap open; I am instantly awake.

I glance around, through the windows and out the back. There seems to be no crazed scientists chasing after, or wailing police cars, so I guess we're okay.

I look out the windscreen. It can't be dawn yet. The clock reads… 3 am?

"Mum!" I all but scream. The twins are too deep asleep to be disturbed by me.

And my mother looks on her way to joining them.

She looks over at me, eyes dim and red with exhaustion.

"Mum, you have to stop," I plead. "You have to rest."

"But, honey," she smiles tiredly. "Look. We're almost there."

I look around again, scrutinising my surroundings past checking to see if we were about to be killed.

In front of us, there is a source of light so bright it almost burns my retinas. "Where are we?" I ask.

"Los Angeles," she says proudly.

I quickly do the maths in my mind. I arrived home at around ten thirty, we spent two hours or so packing all our worldly belongings, and we've been driving ever since…

"You've been driving for _fifteen hours straight?_" I say, disbelieving.

"Yeah, well," she yawns. "They seem to be getting more desperate, don't they? So I thought we'd be harder to find in a crowed place."

I agree with her reasoning, and I can't but help feeling a leap of pleasure. Los Angeles! Beaches! Water! Palm trees!

At least I wouldn't be burnt to a crisp every time I dared to poke my nose out my window. If, you know, I could burn.

"Alright mom," I say. "Let's just find a hotel for tonight. We'll find a place to stay tomorrow."

* * *

**I'm so sorry for not updateing sooner! School takes up a surprising amount of your time, don't you think?**

**Thanks for follows, and a huge thank you to everyone who reviewed-**

**FreetToRun, caribbeansoulforever, SapphireAster and VampiresExplodeInLight**

**I love you all! And I promise to update sooner this time (hopefully) **


	4. Chapter 4

As my mother stayed with the twins in the car, I marched into the _Valiant Hotel _and waited at the counter. The lobby was well lit, assuring me that the establishment was open, but there was on one at the reception.

A half-eaten sandwich was lying next to the computer. _Someone's having a midnight snack,_ I thought. The chair behind the desk was swivelling slightly, as if someone had just gotten up. I eyed the nondescript door behind the chair. 'PRIVATE' it read. 'No Unauthorised Entry'. There didn't seem to be anyone behind the door, so I ignored it.

After standing there for five minutes and thirteen seconds, according to my watch, I called out tentatively, "Hello? Is anyone there?"

A muffled giggle sounded from behind the door, accompanied by a quick 'hush!'

I frowned. I tread quietly across the red carpet, around the reception, to halt in front of the door. Crouching down, I could see no light emitting from underneath, but there were a few patches of darkness in the placement pattern of the feet of two people. Straightening, I pulled open the door.

Two figures fall to the floor laughing.

"You- should- have- seen- your- face!" one of them gasps.

"Why did you wait that long?" the second chuckles.

My eyes widen. I recognised the second voice, and, yes, looking down at the two people, a boy and a girl, the latter's brown-and-pink hair was unmistakeable.

"Nudge?" I say, incredulous. "What are you doing here?"

The two people sober, and sit up from their positions on the ground. An artist's contrasting heaven sits before me. A dark skinned, short, black eyed girl sits beside a tall, pale, carrot topped boy.

I barely have a second to wonder at the identity of the boy, before a squealing shadow launches itself upon me. "Ohmygod! Max! What are you doing here? I've missed you so much"

I pull away from my former best friend, the one who had given me the bracelets I constantly wear, and say, "What am _I _doing here? Nudge, you're working a hotel in the middle of the night, in LA!"

She giggles, and half turns towards her companion, not taking her arms from around my neck. "This is Ignatius. Iggy, this is Max, the girl I told you about." She turns back to me. "Iggy's parents own this hotel. I'm helping him work the night shift. And I'm here because I moved to live with my dad. Don't you remember I was going to do that, before you left?"

I swear silently. How could I have not remembered that? That Nudge might be here, in Los Angeles, a person I had known, left, and thought I would never see again?

My brain feels like mush, and the only thing I can manage to say is, "Ignatius?"

The red head reddened (hehe). "Shut up. It means the Fiery One. Because of my hair. Call me Iggy."

I am barely able to stop a snort escaping. I smirk at _Iggy,_ then turn back to Nudge. "I did know that. I guess I just… forgot. From the excitement of seeing you."

Nudge laughs and hugs me again. "So, why are you here?"

"Here, as in this hotel, or Los Angeles, or are you questioning the reason I was first created in this universe, in the time and place I was?"

I ask the latter of myself every day.

"Options one and two. I'm too tired for a philosophical debate right now."

"Two, because mum's work brought her here. That why I'm moving around, remember? And one, because we need a place to stay tonight."

Iggy straightened in the chair he had settled himself upon. "A customer!" he declared. "Well, miss, why don't you come right this way?"

Nudge giggled, and I almost laughed. The man's joking tone was so bad, it almost came full circle and became funny again.

"Finally, some service." I pull mom's credit card from my back pocket. "How much for two rooms, a double and a single?"

Iggy grins and waves the payment away. "Never mind that. A friend of Nudge's is a friend of mine, and friends are family. And family stays for free."

A settle an expression of grateful surprise on my face, but inwardly, I am ecstatic. This was the fifth hotel we had passed, and the only one that had seemed even a fraction affordable. We would have to save a lot money, in order to find a decent place to live.

I smile. "Thanks _so_ much. I'll be right back."

"I'll come with you!" Nudge cries. "I can't wait to see Angel and Gazzy again!"

She links her arm with mine, and we walk out the door and towards my waiting car.

I collapse, exhausted, on the soft, linen covered single bed in my room.

"This place is brilliant, Nudge. I can't believe your friend owns it."

"Well, his parents," she replies from her position on the fluffy heaven beside me. "But yeah, it is."

I lay like that, arms behind my head, staring at the white ceiling above me. For a few minutes, the room is filled with silence, before I turn to Nudge and ask, "What's it like here? Living in LA? How is it different from Colorado?"

"Ugh," she sighs. "It's so good. I can't believe I lived in Colorado my whole life, with a place like this just _two states _away! Did you know that, from my house, it only takes seven minutes on the bus to get to the beach? You can actually smell it when you go outside."

"Wow," I say, thinking. The last time I had seen the sea was four- no, five- moves ago, back when I lived in Florida. I had lived in a house literally meters from the ocean. I could open my window and look out to the horizon, and it had seemed like I could see every detail of the water. That was what I had been doing when I saw the boatful of scientists and musclemen speeding towards us.

Turning my mind away from painful memories, I sit up and pull Nudge into the same position. "Come on," I say. "I'm going to check on Ange and Gaz, then go to sleep. D'you want to go back to Iggy?"

"Well, he told me just before we came up that he was going to bed now. His cousin, Fang, is probably working now, so I'm just going to sleep."

Two questions pop to mind straight away, and my sleep dulled brain says them without thinking. "Where do you sleep?" and "Why does that family have such weird names?"

Nudge snorts. "It's because he was born with a tooth, apparently, which is something like a one in four thousand chance. And his parents were hippies or something, and wanted to give him something 'different and groove.'" She makes quotation marks with her fingers. "And Iggy lets me crash here whenever, if a room's empty and I don't stay too long."

I smile. Nudge would certainly have use for a place where she had guaranteed stay. I remember her telling me- complaining about, really- the fact that her father often had to leave home for business or something, so it was difficult for her to ever visit him.

I also know, however, that she was touchy about the subject, so all I say is, "That's cool."

She smiles and hugs me goodnight, before leaving. I wait until the sound of her heavy, sleep weighted clomps on the wooden floor had fade to silence, before I open my door and walk across the hall into the room directly straight from mine.

The room is dark, and for a second, my heart thuds painfully, remembering times of darkness and needles and pain and horror.

I force away the memories, and wait for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. Soon, I can make out the shapes of three sleeping figures, illuminated by the faint light of the hallway behind me. As I turn to leave, I hear a tired voice.

"Max?"

I turn and pad softly to the tiny shape of my sister. I kneel down next to the bed and whisper, "Yeah?"

"Love you. Nighty night."

I smile and bend to kiss her forehead. "Love you too Angel. Go to sleep."

Another voice sounds. "Be quiiiiiiet! I'm trying to sleep."

I grin at Angel, and stand. "Sorry, Gazzy. Sleep well."

"Well, I _was._"

A third voice punctuates the darkness. "Everybody. Go. To. Sleep."

I grin, and scurry out of the room and into my own, locking the door behind me.

I pull my overnight backpack out of the closet. In it, are pyjamas, a change of clothes, toiletries, money, water, and a torch. All the essentials needed in case of an abrupt departure.

It's been needed before.

I slip into the track short and tee, stuffing my used clothes to the bottom. Dropping the bag next to my bed, I walk to the window and pull the curtains open. I ignore the street, three storeys below me, and the brightly lit skyline ahead, lighting up the sky and obscuring the stars. I lean out as far as I can, and look in the direction of the ocean. At this time of night, all I can see of it is the lights of the city reflected on a black mass. Even the smell of salt has been obscured by the stench of exhaust fumes.

I sigh wistfully and retreat back into my room. I close the window, but leave the curtains open, allowing the brightness of Los Angeles night time to illuminate my room.

I crawl into the warm embrace of the hotel bed, and collapse against the pillows.

I know what is coming will be one of the worst I have felt. I haven't been in such a situation before, being crushed between two mountains of metal and fire. Usually my dying is peaceful, quite. A noose. A cliff top above a lake. The pain of those situations is mellow. Suffocating. Tight. Nothing like this will be.

Then I finally allow myself to register the pain I have been feeling all day.

At first, it is warm. Then hot.

Then an inferno.

I am burning

Burning

Burningfirefirepaincutsacidt orturedyingpleasenobloodcuts dyingpainkilldyingpleasenono savemeahhithurtsdyingpleasen obloodcutsdyingpainfirefirep aincutsacidtorturekilldyingp leasenonoburningcutspainHURT SCUTSBLOODPAINNOSTOPKILLMENO W

Only one thought perpetrates the wall of fire and pain in my mind.

_Hope no one hears my screams._


	5. Chapter 5

I am burning. It burns.

The fire is dying.

My screams quieten to a whimper. I begin to come aware of my surroundings again.

My sweat soaked sheets are curled around me, twisted from my mindless thrashes. They are cool against my fevered skin, but painful where they touch me.

Not really, obviously. The pain no longer existed. It was all in my mind. But my body thought it was in pain, so it flinched and shuddered away from everything that touched it- the pillow under my head, the blankets around me, the hand shaking my shoulder.

Wait.

What?

I spring upwards into a sitting position, throwing off the hand on my arm, and look around wildly. The lack of light in the room tells me it is still the middle of the night, but there is still enough to see the two figures by my bed.

"Who are you?" I say roughly, then clear my throat of the left over screams.

"Are you alright?" asks a male voice, coming from the person nearest my bed. I squint at him. From what I can see, he is tall, around my height, with dark hair and tanned skin. His features are somewhat familiar, but I cannot place them. Definitely not someone I know well enough to come into my room in the middle of the night and wake me.

"Who are you, and why are you in my room?"

A familiar voice pipes up. "Max, we heard you screaming. Fang knew that you were my friend, because Iggy told him, so he came and got me and we came to see what's happening."

"_Nudge?_" I say incredulously. "And, you're… Fang? The guy with the tooth, cousin of Ignatius the redhead, in the family of Mc-Really-Weird-Names?"

A flash of white tells me 'Fang' grinned, then he kneels down next to my bed.

"Are you alright?" he repeats. "You sounded pretty scared."

Nudge nods. "Or like you were in pain. We- I- were scared. We thought something was happening."

"Why were you screaming?"

"Oh, um," I stutter. "I- I had a nightmare."

"A nightmare," Fang says disbelievingly. "From which you couldn't wake. For half an hour. And you sounded like you were having your toenails extracted by a lemon coated plier?"

I grin, pretending to be embarrassed. "It was scary?"

"Huh," is all he says. Then, "Well, next time, keep the noise to a minimum. We have other guests, you know."

"Fang!" Nudge scolds. "Apologise!"

He grins at me as he stands, letting me know he isn't really that pissed, before settling a scowl over his face when he turns to Nudge.

"No."

And he walks out the door, closing it softly behind him.

"Douche," Nudge mutters. She walks closer to me, into a pool of yellow light, so I can the circles beneath her eyes and the sleep messed hair. "Don't worry about him. He's alright, most of the time. He's probably just tired right now."

"Yeah, well. I can't exactly blame him," I say. "It must be pretty annoying to be woken up in the middle of the night and be told your friend sounds like she's being exorcised, right?"

Nudge flushes and looks away for a millisecond. "I wasn't actually sleeping, to be honest. I was- um- with Iggy. We were talking."

I raise an eyebrow. "Talking?"

Her blush deepens. "Yep! Talking! Just talking."

I just stare at her.

"I swear!"

I roll my eyes and grin. "I'm _sure _you were, honey." My sleepy neurons make a connection. "Hey. If he was there with you, why isn't he here now?"

"He- he is! He's just outside there, making sure no one comes along." She motions towards the door.

"Hmm," I say, slightly insulted that I didn't warrant the attention of Iggy. Then I mentally berate myself. Why should I care? I met the guy for a total of ten minutes!

_You hadn't met Fang at all, and he still came_, an annoying voice at the back of my mind says.

_Shut it,_ I think.

I turn quickly away from that particular train of thought, and smile up at Nudge.

"Seriously, though," I say. "Thanks for coming here. I'm fine. Really."

"Are you sure? Because I could, like, stay here or something, if you want. We could talk or watch a movie, or-?"

"Nudge," I say. "Go. You should continue your conversation with Iggy."

She blushes again, whacking me across the back of the head- I don't flinch over much, thankfully- before swooping down to hug me. She whispers a goodnight in my ear, before walking out the door.

As I lie down again, I hear the sounds of a murmured conversation outside, followed by fading footfalls.

I smile to myself, straightening the covers around me. At least I'll have a decent sleep now.

And friends who actually care.

* * *

**So, I think some apologies are in order- mainly, because it's taken me this long to update, and then with something this small.**

**Sorry.**

**I've just been really busy, with school ending and all, and also I'm not sure whether I ought to continue this story or not. Should I?**

**And, yes, I introduced Fang! And there's a hint of Niggy! **

**Should I have the Niggy?**

**And, I love every single one of you who reviewed, fav-ed or followed!**


	6. Chapter 6

I wake early in the morning, by the light in my room. Before I even sit up, I slit open my eyes and look around, a habit from years ago, just to make sure there is no one in my room.

Thankfully, there isn't, so I slide out of my bed and pad into the adjoining bathroom.

One quick, icy cold shower later (I don't think I'd be able to endure heat for a while) I am feeling refreshed, and finally awake. I fold and put my pyjamas back in my escape bag, before pulling on a loose tee and shorts. Judging by the already warm air, it is likely going to be a suffocatingly hot day. Just my luck.

I open my door and look across the hall, but from a lack of light and sound from my family's room, I assume they are all still asleep.

I wander through hallways and down staircases until I reach the lobby. Siting at the desk is who I assume to be the boy who was in my room last night- Fang.

Now I can study him more closely, his relation with Iggy becomes clear. They both have the same facial structure, with high cheekbones and narrow noses, but Fang clearly has a Hispanic parent, judging by the olive skin and dark eyes.

He looks up from the book he is reading, catches sight of me, and grins. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty," he calls. "No more nightmares?"

"Surprisingly, no, even after I saw your face," I say in reply.

He raises an eyebrow. "Ouch," he says mildly.

I cross over to his desk, and lean on it, peering at what he was reading. Harry Potter.

"Good choice."

"Thanks."

We exist in awkward silence for a few moments, before I say, over cheerfully, "Well, sorry to leave such an _engrossing_ conversation, but I really have to go. Mind telling me where Nudge is?"

He grins. "Room seven. Down that hall, fourth on the left. Tell her hi from me."

I smile my thanks, follow his directions, and enter Nudge's room without knocking. She never locks her door.

The sound of running water is coming from an adjoining door, so I bang on it and yell, "Nudge. I'm in here. Don't come out and mentally scar me, alright?"

"Pervert!" she calls back. "Pass me that sweatshirt and those jeans, will you?"

I see the aforementioned clothes on her bed, but hesitate. "Are you crazy? You'll die of heatstroke!"

"Maybe I'm suicidal!"

I roll my eyes, even though she cannot see me. "Not on my conscience!" I warn as I quickly open the door and drop them just inside.

As quickly as I shut it, a great billow of steam still escapes, half suffocating me.

"Geez, Nudge. Trying to make a geothermal plant in there, are you?"

No reply.

The water shuts off after a few minutes. Moments later, Nudge walks out, towelling her hair, wearing clothes which make me sweat just by looking at them.

I shake my head. "You're mad."

"Takes one to know one."

I laugh at her use of the most clichéd and overused come back in the history of time.

"So, where can you get a halfway edible meal in this place?"

I carry a bag of breakfast buns- feta and spinach, ham and cheese, pizza- and a bottle of juice back to my family's room. When I walk in, I find Angel and Gazzy watching SpongeBob, and assume mom is in the shower. "No, SpongeBob!" Gazzy yells. "Don't hide the body _there_!"

I raise an eyebrow.

Angel spots me, squeals, and runs over, hugging me around me the middle.

"Woah," I say, putting my arms around her in return. "What happened?"

She looks up at me, baby blue eyes huge. "You had another nightmare, didn't you?"

I almost sigh. Sometimes, Angel was too perceptive for her own good. Plastering a smile on my face, I say, "Nope. Why'd you think that, honey?"

"You look tired."

I try to laugh. "That's because I got up early getting you guys some breakfast." I shake the bag.

Her face lights up at the prospect of filling her insatiable stomach. "What'd you get?" she demands, snatching the bag and looking inside.

"Buns?" Gazzy yells suddenly, muting the TV and turning to look at us.

I raise an eyebrow. "How'd you know?"

"I could smell it," he replies, scrambling over the back of the couch and thrusting an arm into the brown paper bag. Moments later, he and Angel are smiling at me, close lipped, mouths stuffed.

"Hey," I say, grinning. "Slow down. You need to leave some for mom. How about you drink some juice?"

Gazzy swallows- with obvious difficulty- and demands, "What kind?"

"Apple-mango, obviously."

He ties to grab the bottle, but I hold it quickly above my head.

"Nope," I say, shaking my head. "Cups, remember?"

He scrunches up his nose in that adorable way kids do, but conceded in scurrying to the mini kitchen in the corner and searching through the cramped cupboards. As he does so, Angel sits cross-legged in front of me, taking small bites of her bun, focused only on that.

Ruffling her hair, I step around Angel and collapse on the unmade bed, leaning back on my arms and stretching. A triumphant "Ha!" tells me Gazzy found what he was searching for, and sure enough, moments later he is holding a pair of coffee mugs to my face.

"Juice?" he asks hopefully.

I raise a corner of my mouth. "What's the magic word?"

"Maaax," Gazzy whines, rolling his eyes.

"Please?" Angel adds, from where she is standing behind him. Honestly, I swear those two could get away with murder if they gave the jury their puppy eyes.

Waving half-heartedly to the table on which I had left the juice, I say, "Yeah, fine take it."

I smile for a second at their cheers, but then my thoughts are forced back to their earlier course.

_How had they found us? Why were they still chasing me? What will we have to do now?_

_This is all my fault, isn't it? _I think. _If it weren't for me, they all could have normal lives. How could I do this to my family? Oh god, I have to leave, I have to-_

_STOP. _I dig my nails into the soft flesh of my wrist; the sudden pain distracts me from my thoughts. Looking at my wrist, there are no indentions on the skin, and my arm is not even red. I roll my eyes, and in doing so I see neon red numbers depicting the time.

My eyebrows rise of their own accord while I quickly do some calculations; we arrived in the city at three, and had found this place by four. I _suppose _noon was a reasonable time for my mother and siblings to wake, seeing as the twins had slept most of the way here, but mom had been exhausted when she had finally collapsed on the bed. She certainly should have slept for more than eight hours, right?

My thoughts are once again interrupted; Angel suddenly bounds up to me, blonde curls bouncing adorably. "Max?" she says in a honeyed voice.

"Yeah?" I say cautiously.

"Could Gazzy and me please go about and play? Pretty please?" she adds at my hesitation.

I frown. "Didn't mom tell you guys that you can't before?"

"Well, yeah, I guess…" she mumbles, just as Gazzy empathetically exclaims "Nope!"

I raise my brows at Gazzy where he is sitting on the ground, face covered in bread crumbs. He scrunches up his face and pokes his tongue out at me. Turning back to Angel, I say, "Honey, if mommy said you shouldn't, why are you asking me?"

"Please with sugar on top?" she begs, ignoring my question, widening her eyes and pouting.

I turn away, pretending to study the painting of a bowl of fruit on the wall. "Just watch tv for now, guys. I'll talk to mom later to see if I can take you."

Angel sighs but complies, shoulders slumped as she collapses on the red couch, while Gazzy whines and moans. "_Please, _Max? We haven't done nothing since yesterday, and I'm super bored!"

I mutely shake my head and ponder how Valencia could possibly stand the combined power of these two (and ignoring the fact that if they begged anymore I would certainly cave), while said mother walks into the room, proving correct the fact that if you think about someone they are sure to appear.

She is wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe, complimentary of the hotel, and her wet hair hangs loose, sprinkling drops of water behind her as she walk.

"Oh, Max," she says, sounding surprised but exhausted. "You got some food, good. I'm just going to…" She sits down rather unceremoniously next to me, massaging her temples with her fingertips.

"Mommy!" the twins squeal, jumping to their feet and scampering to her. "Could we go out?" "Pleeeaaasse?"

"Not now," she snaps. "Go sit down." Angel's eyes begin to water, and Gazzy's lower lip starts to tremble. I quickly grab them both and whisper into their ears, "Mommy's tired, guys, ask her later."

Fortunately, they drag their feet back to their previous location with minimal fuss; I don't think either of us could handle the terror of a double tantrum right now. Gazzy would stomp around and shout while Angel would wail and cry.

After sitting for a minute or so in silence, my mom looks up at me and quietly says, "Thanks."

Shrugging one shoulder, I reply, "What should we do now?"

She closes her eyes and inhales deeply, evidently preparing herself. "Well…"

An hour later, we had narrowed down possible apartments to half a dozen, and started the enrolment processes for the twins and I in a pre and high school respectively. By then, it wasn't just the twins who were going a little stir crazy.

I desperately wanted to go out, walk around, see what this city had to offer, but I was still paranoid that the people chasing us- _me-_ had figured out where we were, and I so much as stuck my nose outside they would find me and drag me away kicking and screaming.

Resisting the urge to stand and stretch, I lean over to my mom and show her the website I have open on my phone. "What about this one?" I ask. "Utilities are free, it's just a couple of blocks away from the preschool, and it's only seven fifty a month."

She doesn't look up from the laptop. "How many bedrooms?"

"Three, and two bathrooms."

"That's nice," she says distractedly. "But this one, it's the same area, you have to pay for water and gas, and it's only five hundred, and for an extra hundred you can get furniture."

I nod, "Yeah, maybe."

Gazzy, from where he is lying on the floor playing monopoly, says quietly, "I want to go back to our old house."

Angel gasps, mom buries her face in her hands, and I stand and walk out, slamming the door behind me. I lean against the wall and sink to the ground, hands shaking, eyes burning.

_Why am I even here? _I ask myself. _I should leave them, leave now, let the kids grow up with normal lives, away from all of my shit. _But I am too selfish. I cannot do it.

I don't know how long I sit there. I few people enter and leave the rooms around me, glancing at me but never stopping. I hear nothing from my family.

I have been staring at the ceiling long enough to memorise the pattern of cracks when I hear hurried footsteps approaching from around the corner.

"Max!" someone calls, apparently disregarding the social norm of using a low in public places. "Maaax! Maximum, I hope you're decent, because I am commin- oh, there you are. Hey."

I roll my eyes (I do that a lot, don't I?) and smile at Nudge. "Hi."

"Is there a reason you're sitting like a total looser in the middle of the hallway?"

I shrug a shoulder and smile as I stand, (what I hope is) discreetly wiping away any remaining tears on my face. "Any particular reason you're screaming you're head off in the middle of a corridor?"

She huffs. "You're one to talk. Um, Iggy and Fang and me are going out, and we- well, I- wanted to know if you wanted to come?"

"Where would we be going?"

It's her turn to shrug. "Just show you around, I guess. There's a salon opening up a couple of blocks away, they have a sale on, and I was thinking of going. And I think Fang wants to see a movie?"

_That doesn't sound _too_ dangerous_, I think. _And if anything happens, I'd only be a few blocks away._

I smile at Nudge. "Why not? I'll just be a sec."

She beams, radiating happiness, as though she was worried I would turn her down. "Awesome! I'll just wait here then? Gosh, you're going to _love _it here, you know? I do, in any case!"

I grin at her, before ducking into the hotel room. Avoiding my family's eyes, I say, "Nudge invited me out and I'm going, okay?"

Gazzy is refusing to look in my direction as well, his face cherry red. Valencia frowns. "Nudge? Are you sure it'll be safe? You haven't seen this girl for months; you don't know what she's like any more."

I gasp. "Mom! It's _Nudge_! You know she'd never do anything like that!"

She sighs but looks at the twins. "Fine. Do you have enough money?"

I am surprised at her quick relent, but say nothing about. "I think so, we were just going to go to the movies."

"Here." She stands, pulls her wallet out of her back pocket and hands me a slightly crumpled fifty dollar note. "I was thinking of taking the twins to look at apartments. Call me when you'll be home."

"O-kaay?" She nods at the door. "Bye, then?"

"Bye-bye Maxie," Angel says quietly.

Confused, I leave. Why is she this okay with me going? I think that is an accurate description of my and my mother's relationship; if she is nice to me, I suspect something is wrong.

Stuffing my phone and money into my pocket, I turn to Nudge, who is texting someone. Her fingers fly across the buttons.

"Once sec," she says, not looking up. "Okay! Let's go! Oh Max, I've missed you so much! This is going to be fun!"

I smile. "I'm sure it will be."

* * *

**I'm sorry? I really don't have any excuse for not updating. I had kind of forgotten about this story, until ****_thatdimiGod _****followed it and I was reminded that this actually existed! So, thanks!**

**I know this chapter kind of sucks (I apologize for the lack of hot males), but elements mentioned ARE important later in the story. I will try to update soon, but school starts in three days, so... Though, it will be in less than four months, I promise!**

**Thank you for reading (if you did) and please let me know what you think?**

**Xx, TB**


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